Starlet: A Dark Retelling - Cora Kenborn Page 0,130

She shudders. “Those poor children. I don’t care if there isn’t definitive proof. No one can convince me Greg Rosten didn’t murder the whole family to keep his perversions quiet. Of course, I guess we’ll never really know, will we?”

“You seem confident,” the man beside me pipes up.

Tess leans back and picks at her nails. “What I think doesn’t matter. In the end, it’s all hearsay, isn’t it? All the police have is the word of a crazy woman, who, moments later, did a swan dive into the reservoir. And now, for the second time, Alexandra Romanov’s body has never been found. In the end, the truth of what really happened that night died with her.”

I frown. “Do you think she was evil?”

“The mind is a very fragile thing, and when it breaks, even good people are capable of wicked things.”

The wind blows a piece of my short blonde hair across my face as a knot in my gut twists. “So, your theory is she snapped and killed everyone?”

Isla snorts. “Tess has lots of theories.”

I’m sure she does. However, theory and truth are almost always mutually exclusive. Both can hide behind pretty words and persuasive rhetoric, but putting a dress on a dragon doesn’t stop it from breathing fire. It just disguises the flame until it’s too late.

Tess offers a brittle smile. “Do I believe she shot her mother? Absolutely. Do I believe she had a breakdown and killed Greg Rosten? Yes. Do I believe she killed Violet DeLuca?” Rolling her eyes toward the sky, she flips her palm up and shrugs. “Indirectly.”

Plastic crinkles as my hands clench around my water bottle. “I’m sorry?”

“Alexandra Romanov sealed that girl’s fate the minute she allowed her inside the inner circle. That place…” Her eyes shift toward the estate again. “The evil is beautiful. It sucks you in, but once you walk inside, you don’t walk out.”

Her razor-sharp assessment slithers across my shoulders, dragging a rough tongue against my neck.

“And Dominic McCallum?” the man interjects, waves of disdain and condescension vibrating off him.

And there it is again. The wind at my back. The whisper in my ear.

“Alexandra claimed responsibility, but his mind games pushed her over the edge.” The corner of Tess’s red painted lip tips up. “The man got paid to deliver her to a rapist’s doorstep. Not exactly what I’d call a knight in shining armor.”

She pauses as the tour guide makes her way toward the back of the bus and turns a half circle right in front of us. Gesturing wildly toward another home, she launches into another speech about a couple who killed themselves in a dual suicide pact. Her close proximity forces every eye on us, so the three of us sit quietly. Finally, the guide tosses a disapproving glare our way before walking back to the front of the bus, turning everyone’s attention the other direction as she goes.

Immediately, we draw together again, and Tess sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. “The story has a lot of bloodstains, but it all comes back to one simple truth.”

“Which is?”

“Alexandra Romanov is one missing person who should’ve stayed that way.”

I couldn’t agree more.

I admit, this has been a surprisingly entertaining trip. I’m buzzing with electricity after a chance meeting with these two women. Tess and Isla livened up what I expected to be a somber celebrity bus tour in the burning California heat.

I open my mouth to pump them for more dirt when the man speaks up again. “So, you really think she killed him?”

Tess shifts a smug look toward him. “You really think she didn’t?”

They exchange heated stares, and then he slowly uncrosses his arms, his hands settling on his lap. “I suppose anything can happen in Hollywood.”

This time, the wind doesn’t whisper. It roars. Every hard consonant batters my back as the familiar rumble of his voice drives a dagger deep in my chest. Even though I’ve balanced on my toes for twelve months. Even though the only way to live on a ledge is never to breathe. I inhale slowly and lower my eyes to the man’s lap.

To where an inked tattoo spans the top of his right hand.

I’m in a daze as Tess swings her gaze toward me. “What do you think?” Her intense stare is unrelenting as she tilts her head. There’s something jagged in her eyes I don’t like. It’s as if she’s spent all day putting together a jigsaw puzzle only to realize the main piece was missing. “I’m sorry, what